


Carry Me

by ExpressAndAdmirable



Series: The Heroes of Light [11]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types, Final Fantasy I
Genre: Backstory, Bards Being Bards, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Mentor/Protégé, Parent-Child Relationship, Tiefling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-22 03:22:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13158210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExpressAndAdmirable/pseuds/ExpressAndAdmirable
Summary: Aviva lost her father before she turned six. At a loss for how to help her daughter cope, her mother finds her a music teacher. Contains: grief.





	Carry Me

Aviva eyed the sign above the door of the shop. She was not the best with her letters yet, but she could recognise the faded lute painted on the weather-beaten wood. A music shop. Her mother was bringing her to a music shop, though for what reason she could not fathom. She held onto her mother’s hand as they entered.

The inside of the shop was strangely dim, and Aviva realised the windows were stacked so high with instruments they blocked most of the outside light. The rest of the shop was no tidier. A harpsichord sat in one corner, completely covered in flutes and hand drums. Violins, lutes and other long-necked things rested on pegs set into the walls, and bundles of strings draped over the low rafters like sinewy vines. Books and sheet music sat in tall, unsteady piles on any open surface. The smells of wood, varnish and horsehair hung in the air, and Aviva found the mixture strangely calming. It was the sort of place only those who really knew what they were looking for might frequent.

Something at the back of the shop rustled and bumped. The sound was closely followed by an incredibly old man, Human, with a short white beard and deep brown skin. A pair of dark spectacles sat perched atop his bald head, and it took Aviva a moment to realise why: the man’s eyes were milky, sightless. She shied back a step.

“Esperance Lux, I presume?” The old man’s voice was surprisingly rich and resonant for his frail frame. He tilted his head slightly, anticipating the sound of a response.

Esperance cleared her throat and released Aviva’s hand as she stepped toward the old man. “Yes. Good afternoon, sir. May we speak?” Aviva watched her join the man behind the back counter and confer with him in low tones. She pretended not to listen as her gaze wandered around the shop. Her ears were very good.

“She hasn’t been the same since my husband… Rarely speaks… Don’t think she has any friends at school… Alone… She just seems so… Only six years old… Maybe this will… Could you?”

When their conversation concluded, Esperance approached her daughter and crouched to meet her eyes. “I’m going to leave you with this gentleman for awhile, okay V? I’ll be back this evening, and we’ll make something nice for dinner. Be your best.” Aviva nodded. Esperance smiled her thin, worried smile (it was the only smile she could manage nowadays) and stood. She bid good day to the old man and left the shop.

“Come here, child.”

Aviva crept forward as the old man extended both hands. “Take them. I don’t bite.” His voice was gentle and the ghost of a smile played at his lips. Tentatively, Aviva reached up and placed her little hands in his. He wrapped his long fingers around them, pressing his thumbs into her palms. “Hmm.” He kneaded her hands, rolled them in his, felt the bones under her skin. Then he nodded and released her. “I have just the thing.”

With a grace Aviva had not expected, the man made his way to one of the walls of the shop and retrieved a violin from its pegs. From the mess of supplies heaped atop the harpsichord, he produced a bow. He returned to Aviva’s side and measured the bow against her height. “You’ll grow into it. Take them, go on.” Slowly, she did as she was told. “Do you know why your mama brought you here?”

Aviva shook her head, remembered the old man could not see her, made a small sound. She saw through her mother’s game: when communicating with the blind, there is simply no way to stay silent. Clever, mama. Very clever.

“Because you need music,” he answered. She did not understand, and somehow, he could tell. “You have too much inside you, little one. You have so much bundled up in your heart and your mind, and if you don’t let it out, it’ll destroy you. I can promise you that.” He paused again. “You don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want. I don’t have much use for words at my age anyway. But you have to get it out somehow. Do you think you might want to do that?”

The most Aviva could muster was a small noise of unsurety. This was all very overwhelming. The man nodded. “May I borrow those?” he asked, reaching for the items he had just given her. She placed them into his waiting palms, watching him intently. He tucked the instrument under his chin, took a moment to tune the strings, and with a flourish of sound, he brought it to life.

Aviva's heart ached. The violin keened, its tune mournful and beautiful. It sang of the pain of loss, the struggles of the living. A thought came unbidden as he played: her father. So tall and strong, so sure, with a smile that could win over even the hardest of hearts. Now he was gone. He would never sweep her into his arms again, never take her on the water in his little fishing boat. The waves he loved so much had claimed his life. Now he was nothing but ash on the funeral pyre and a sadness in her mother’s eyes.

She wept.

The old man played his final note and left the memory of the music to linger in the air. Aviva sniffled softly. The man nodded. “I thought so, little one. You can’t keep all that inside you. It feels good to let it out, doesn’t it?”

Doing her best to will her tears away, Aviva let out a small affirmative squeak.

“My name is Mourat,” the old man said. “You’ve probably heard some folks say some things about you, hm? Some nasty things. But I don’t fear your kind. You don’t _look_ particularly frightening to me, in any case.” His tone was serious, but his smile gave him away. Aviva couldn’t help but giggle, just a little bit. “I don’t care who you are or where you come from. I care about music. So what do you say, little one? Do you want to learn?”

Aviva nodded. “Yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title song by Matisyahu.
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr at @expressandadmirable for a proper table of contents for the Heroes campaign, commissioned character art, text-based roleplay snippets and more!


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